Fate's Course
by Cormak3032
Summary: During Hermione's 7th year, events take place that will drastically change her life and the lives of others around her. Things will never be the same as she attempts to prove the reasoning behind the actions of a man the world hates. HGSS HBP SPOILERS
1. Unjustified

Fate's Course

Written by Cormak

Disclaimer: I don't own these wonderful characters. I'm only borrowing them for a brief while and promise to bring them back as I found them. This story is being written for fan enjoyment as well as my own. No profit is being made.

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This story contains spoilers for Book 6 the Half Blood Prince. If you do not want to know what happens in the book do not read this story until you have read the book.

This is my first Harry Potter based story. Please be kind. I'm still learning about this lovely little world that JK Rowling has created and shared with us.

This is a HG/SS story. Knowing how I write, it will most likely be lengthy. I seem to have a knack for creating stories that are 40 or more chapters in length. Please forgive any mistakes, as I do not yet have a beta for this story.

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This first chapter has been slightly rewritten due to the recent release of The Half Blood Prince. It's very scary to know that this story was heading in a direction that is very similar to events that happened in Book 6. I've made minor tweaks in my story line to compensate. Instead of events happening in the middle of year 6 they are taking place in the middle of year 7. I apologize for the confusion.

Chapter 1: Unjustified.

She found it unfair and knew at the same time that life was not about fairness. It was about what was right and wrong. And much in the world was still wrong. The current rumors and talk about the man that currently lay comatose before her were definitely unjustified.

"Murderer, traitor. Greasy, slimy bastard. Knew it all along! He deserves to die."

She cringed remembering some of what she had heard from people walking in the corridor and even from the mouths of the hospital staff. How quickly people pointed fingers when they knew so little about the whole truth.

She glanced over at him, taking in his lithe form for what felt like the billionth time.

He lay perfectly still. Shoulder length lank hair the color of midnight spread upon a pillow as white as freshly fallen snow. His pale skin was nearly as white. It was a stark contrast to the black robe she adamantly requested for him. He bore fresh scars across his face and others on his neck and hands. There were no tubes or machines connected to him like at a Muggle hospital, and so to her he appeared dead. She shuddered at the very thought. He couldn't die. There was so much to speak about.

The attack had come much earlier than anyone had expected. Most believed if the Dark Lord chose to assault Harry Potter it would be sometime after the school year. It was logical, after no attacks on Harry during the summer break, for it to occur after Harry's graduation. He would leave the safety of the school for the dangerous adult wizarding world.

How wrong they had all been.

The "murderer and traitor" to the wizarding world surprised and enraged nearly everyone when he flooed Headmistress McGonagall during a staff meeting with a warning of an upcoming attack. It wasn't long before the whole school knew.

Not many believed him, despite rumors of his attempts of reasoning that the truth behind the death late Headmaster would be known when the war was over. Many claimed he was a cold blooded murderer, which they had suspected all along.

Headmistress McGonagall refused to listen to her pleas that the man was telling the truth and that there was reasoning to what happened the previous year. No one would listen to the clues she had found along the way to prove he had been forced to do what he had done.

They thought she was daft, off her broomstick and gone mental for giving a murderer and traitor the benefit of doubt. Harry couldn't fathom that one of his best friends had betrayed him to side with the greasy git after all that had happened. They had quarreled and even Ron had stepped back from her.

It was just past the middle of the school term in Harry Potter's 7th year. The warning was remembered when events began to happen and it was heeded nearly too late.

Tears clouded her eyes. Much was lost in the preliminary attacks in the days that followed. She needed her friends more than ever and only Ron showed compassion, though it was with distance and tension.

She and Ron and the other students were ordered to stay at the school. It was the only place that was deemed safe. Leaving for home was out of the question due to possible attacks on the train or any other means of transportation.

When the worst loomed, she had made a decision that would forever change the course of many lives.

The tears trickled freely down her cheeks. Ronald Weasley was now dead. One of her best friends of six years, someone she cared for and loved…Gone forever. He left behind a family and many friends who mourned him for his humor, his courage, his loyalty and everything that made him who he had been.

If the death of one of her best friends was not enough, there was more salt to rub into her wounds. The sickening fact she was truly alone picked at her repeatedly like ravenous vultures. And because of her desire to use her knowledge to make things right, the very man she sought to save lay in a coma with no immediate expectations that he would survive.

Hermione Granger buried her face into her hands and for the third time that day, she wept for those who had died, the grave mistakes she had made and the truth she had uncovered.

And she wept for Severus Snape, so called murderer and traitor, who lay dying so that she and another might live.

To be continued...

I know that the first chapter was extremely short. There will be more to come. Your patience is certainly appreciated.

Hope you enjoyed the start of the story.

Cormak


	2. Questions, but not many answers

AN. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter. It amazes me how many of my readers have followed me from fandom to fandom. I'm so lucky to have you!

Since the recent release of HBP I've gone back and edited the first chapter to go a bit more in line with canon. I hope this does not discourage anyone from reading, but I will understand if it does. This story contains major SPOILERS for Book 6.

Chapter 2: Questions, but not many answers.

It was soon that time of the day again. Late evening when last minute visitors could be heard talking and shuffling down the corridors.

She tried to ignore them and their words as they passed by the door, casting oddly formed shadows on the cold tile floor of Severus Snape's room.

"Is he really in that room? Why are they allowing him to stay here?"

"He should be in Azkaban if you ask me. Coma or no coma."

"I heard there was a Muggle staying with him. What's wrong with her? Doesn't she know what he's like? That he's KILLED people for Merlin's sake!"

"Daft if you ask me!Or maybe she's under some kind of curse!"

Hermione grit her teeth. It was nearly the same every night as it had been for three long weeks. The hospital's visiting hours was over and everyone was going home, except her. She stayed twenty-four hours a day whether she was welcome or not, listening to their hatred.

They spoke ill of the man in the room and they spoke ill of her. No one asked how she was and if he was all right. They just assumed she was either insane or under a curse. Only one mediwizard had visited the room. It had been the initial diagnosis and he had not returned.

The mediwitches were afraid Severus Snape might awaken and murder them, so they acted as if the room was a contagious disease and stayed as far away as they could. They didn't care who sat with him as long as they didn't have to look at him.

The only one that stayed besides Hermione was an Auror. A middle-aged man who refused his name when asked by her. It was obvious he did not trust someone who would sit by a known murderer.

Meals were left outside the door, often found hours later when the soup was cold and the bread was stale.

Hermione had spent three long weeks, watching her former professor breathe, spoon feeding him soup to keep him alive. She used magic to change his clothes and bathe. She held her breath when nightmares plagued him, his hoarse cries piercing her heart. And she held onto the hope that the spasms, which rocked his body,would not kill him.

She had provided evidence for the Ministry of Magic to confirmthat this man was not evil. He had only done what he was forced to do. They had laughed at her, except Arthur Weasley who remained silent.They all thought she was a stupid girl who was going to ruin her chance at a bright future. She wanted to prove themwrong. She had to...

Things were out of her hands until he awakened. If he ever did. All she could do was wait, hope and pray that everyone could know what she knew and would believe the truth.

There was still so much more to understand. So many pieces of this complicated puzzle that were missing. She was determined to find them.

Who was the real Severus Snape? What sort of thoughts ran through his brilliant mind when he was conscious? What had he been thinking when he killed Albus Dumbledore? Had he felt remorse? Emptiness? Loathing? Release?

Hermione sighed. Rising from her chair by his bed, she moved to the window. She watched below as parents, children and couples left the hospital. Some Apparating, some traveling by broom. They lived normal lives and most were virtually unaffected by the war.

She envied them.

She didn't know how long she stood in the window, hand on the cool glass just watching, but it had grown dark now. She moved towards the lanterns in the room and called, "_Lumos." _They lit themselves, bathing the room in a warm orange glow. She turned toward her chair and stopped dead in her tracks.

Black eyes glared back at her, unblinking, and emotionless.

"Professor," she called without thinking.

Snape made no reaction and continued to glare.

They examined each other in silence for several moments. He reluctantly looked away from her and glanced around the hospital room. A deep scowl appeared on his long thin face.

Hermione's heartbeat quickened as she watched him. She had prayed for him to awaken and now that he was conscious she had no idea of how to proceed.

His eyes found hers again and this time they were full of hatred.

"Why am I alive?" he asked his voice hoarse from disuse.

Hermione swallowed. "It wasn't your time," she answered softly.

Surprisingly, the scowl on his face disappeared and he seemed tired and worn.

"Why are you here, Miss Granger? Why are you not celebrating victory with Potter?" The last word was spat bitterly.

She glanced down at her hands, which had begun to twist together in her nervousness.

"Harry and I aren't speaking, sir. And I am here because I want to be."

He snorted at her answer and then began to cough violently; his eyes screwing shut in pain as his body began to spasm.

Hermione was at his side in a moment, horrified as he thrashed on the bed that she could do nothing but, watch and wait. No mediwizard would come to help him, because none had come before.

The episode passed quickly, but it felt like years later. Snape was shaking, panting and sweat beaded and dripped down the sides of his pale face. The side effects of the unknown curse that hit him were weakening him as they had the last few weeks.

"Here for the show, Miss Granger?" he spat, breath still short, chest heaving. The features of his face were harsh, his black eyebrows lowered over his dark eyes.

"This is nothing I haven't seen in the last 3 weeks," she told him truthfully.

Snape's eyes widened.

Shepushed back her bushy hair, which had fallen into her face. She didnot know ifhis surprise wasdue to the length of timeor that she had seen him in this state before without his knowledge.

He was silent for a few minutes, contemplating. "Why am I not in Azkaban?" He started to rise from the pillow.

She lowered a hand to his chest and gently pushed him back, surprised at how easily he obeyed her, but remembered how weak he was. "You need to rest, sir. Who knows how long it will take for you to heal and you will need all your strength. No one knows what hit you." An underlying tone was there. _No one cares…_

He grunted at her, eyes flashing with hatred. She wasn't sure who or what the hatred was aimed at. He kept changing his emotions. Something unlikely for a person such as him. But then again after all that had taken place, she really knew nothing of what he was trulylike.

She gave a great sigh and sat in the chair by his bed again.

Snape watched her, his eyes gliding over her form. She looked thinner than he ever remembered seeing her. Her hair was even wilder, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Had she stayed beside him for three weeks? What would compel her to do such a thing? Especially after what he had done?

This was too much for him. He opened his mouth to bark at her to leave him alone. For her to go back to school or to her family, when he remembered that she had no family. He wasn't there when it happened, but he knew of the brutal murder of her Muggle parents at the hands of the Death Eaters. Targets because of her friendship with Potter.

She was without family at seventeen years of age and if her and Potter were not on speaking terms and if Mr. Weasley was not present….

The battle came rushing into his mind. The hexes being shouted, the cries, screams. He'd had to choose which one to try and save. Her or Ronald Weasley and he had chosen her. The curse had hit Snape and he remembered her cry as he fell toward the ground. She had tried to stop his descent and failed miserably. He collapsed on top of her, her arms around him as they crashed hard onto the dirt. He had seen Weasley go down and then world had gone black.

He continued to study her. She was being far too quiet. She normally had a billion annoying questions to ask him and yet he was the one doing all the questioning. He wondered if her silence was due to the losses in her life, but it wasn't until their eyes met again that something registered in his mind.

She was regarding him with admiration, slight fear and comprehension. Not a single trace of hatred was in her big brown eyes. He drew a large breath that rattled in his chest. "You know…" he whispered.

She nodded slowly.

He watched her, his eyes bored into hers. What exactly did she know? How much? The questions made him dizzy.

She looked away from his intense gaze. "They'll come now that you are awake. They'll set a court date." Her voice was full of dread.

"And they will send me where I belong," he replied without bitterness. "Azkaban." His voice grew quiet as he spoke the name of the wizard prison.

"I won't let them," she breathed softly. A vow.

The words surprised him, but he did not let that be known to her.

"I murdered Albus Dumbledore in case your memory has grown foggy, Miss Granger. I betrayed the Order of the Phoenix," he retorted.

"As part of the greatestdeception anyone has seen," she told him with admiration in her eyes. "You warned us of the upcoming attack. You gave Harry the last piece of the clue that he needed to finish off Voldemort. You…you saved my life…You killed Professor Dumbledore at his insistence, so that you could save Draco from becoming one of them. So you could continue to protect Harry!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" he shouted angrily. His heart was beating so hard he feared it would burst from his chest. She knew…Gods, she knew far too much. He knew first hand how knowledge could ruin.

The shout caused the door to bang open and the Auror stepped into the room. He was an imposing man, with light brown hair and green eyes. Tall and muscled.

Hermione was on her feet in a second.

"Finally awake, I see," he spat at Snape. "Pity for you."

Snape grit his teeth, forcing himself to calm his breathing and his pounding heart. He did not recognize the Auror, but the very site of him angered and frightened him at the very same time.

The man glanced at Hermione and acknowledged her for the second time since he had arrived three weeks ago. They had only spoken once before and it was not a pleasant conversation. "Are you all right, Miss?"

"I'm fine," she bit out at him.

"I told you it wasn't right for you to be here. I told you-"

"-I'm fine. We're fine. Please leave us alone," she interrupted angrily. "He needs his rest."

Snape blinked at her commanding tone. The young woman who stood mere feet from his bed looked nothing like the young girl he had taught at Hogwarts. She looked fierce. Her eyebrows were drawn low over her brown eyes; her wild hair flowed around her like a lion's mane. She appeared as a lioness protecting one of her cubs.

Snape could not understand her. Why was he she here? Why was she defending him?

The room was deathly silent for several minutes before the Auror moved towards the door, his hand gripping the cold silver metal knob harshly.

"That's not all he needs. You've been warned. I will not be held responsible if anything happens in this room."

Hermione did not reply, but continued to glare at the Auror. The man did the same to her, each watching the others move, until he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Snape was quiet as he watched her sit heavily in the chair at his bedside. There was no love between Hermione Granger and the Auror.

"There's a lot I'm still missing. Lots we have to discuss if I'm to help you. You'd better rest," she told him. Her voice had lost its bite, but nor was it soft or weak.

For the first time in his life Severus Snape did not argue. He realized there were things to be discussed. Many things indeed.

to be continued...


	3. Blind Fury

Thanks to those who take the time to let me know what they think. I appreciate feedback, even if it is to point out errors or make suggestions that perhaps I did not think of.

Special thanks to my beta Snarkyroxy.

Chapter three: Blind Fury

Faint light crept hesitantly over the line of the horizon. It bathed the room in a soft, pink glow. Severus Snape could see it though hooded eyes. His entire body ached, his mouth was parched and he felt cold.

He knew a fever had developed while he slept during the night, and he was far too weak to fight it. Once he had been a feared Potions Master and a former Death Eater. Now, he was a trembling bundle of nerves and uncertainty.

A noise caught his attention and he searched the dark room to see the shifting form of Hermione Granger. She had managed to fall asleep at some point during the night. She was curled uncomfortably in a chair by his bed, her long, bushy hair framing her pale face, which rested on her shoulder. She had truly surprised him yesterday by defending him, despite all he had done.

He swallowed, and winced as the action pained his throat. His eyes closed; he could not remember the last time he felt so miserable. Merlin, yes he could. Months ago, when he had killed the only man who had ever given him a second chance; one he had so desperately needed after the stupid decisions he'd made in his youth. While Albus Dumbledore had infuriated him to no end, Snape never wished him dead. Yet now, the intelligent, meddling Headmaster had been killed, and by Severus' own wand.

Snape choked back the sob that nearly escaped his traitorous throat. The guilt was relentless as always, threatening to consume him completely.

After killing Dumbledore and reporting to the Dark Lord, Snape had Apparated to Spinner's End. While Wormtail remained with the Dark Lord, Snape drank in his childhood home until he was ill. He had foolishly attempted to drown his emotions and memories with alcohol. It had done nothing more than make him feel worse and incredibly sick. He had retched into the early hours of the morning, feeling miserable and weak.

The dark-haired man opened his eyes and exited his memories. Soft, brown eyes gazed back at him. The young woman who had been sleeping beside his bed had awakened. He knew she had caught the rare glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes before Snape banished his weaknesses behind tightly warded doors in his mind.

There was sympathy in her gaze and Snape could not bear to see it. He looked away to compose himself further and when he acknowledged her, he regarded her as he once did while he was her professor. Cold and calculating.

"You have overstayed your welcome, Miss Granger," he bit out hoarsely.

"We both have," she replied softly.

His dark eyebrows lowered over his ebony eyes.

Hermione drew her knees to her chest, looking much less fierce than she had last night. "I heard them talking outside the door late last night. They want a trial this week." She stood up and began pacing, which halted him from making a remark. " I should have seen this coming, how stupid…not prepared…"

"Not prepared for what?" his beady eyes followed her as she roamed around the small room.

She whirled to face him, her curly hair bouncing around her with a life all of its own. "To defend you properly. I don't know how wizarding trials work. I only know from…someone that there can be one person representing the one brought to trial." She paused for a moment, casting her eyes to the floor as if something fascinating was present there. She seemed to compose herself, standing a little straighter, and she looked him in the eyes now. "I intend to represent you, sir, but I need to gather all my evidence, so that we have a strong case."

"I want no one to defend me, least of all a meddling Gryffindor," he growled.

"Defending you is the least I can do," she told him fervently.

"I desire no debtors, Miss Granger." His tone slashed through the air, but it did nothing to unsettle her.

"Well, you should have thought of that before you saved my life, Professor!" she shouted.

Snape snarled at her and realized that from his position he wasn't looking very convincing. He forced himself up right, ignoring the nausea that swept over him. "Don't call me that!"

"Then what? Sir? Mr. Snape? Severus?"

He cringed inwardly at the title of Mr. Snape. It sounded far too much like his father.

"Half-Blood Prince?" she continued, this time sarcastically.

"Severus, if you must," he growled in annoyance at her cheek.

Hermione was suddenly all fire and energy again. "You saved my life; the very least I can do is defend you."

"I will call your life debt fulfilled if you leave me alone," he offered.

She shook her head, her unruly hair settling around her. "It doesn't work that way."

"It will work whatever way I choose."

Her eyes bore into his. "If I don't defend you, you will most likely be placed in Azkaban. No one else has stepped forward," she informed him sadly. She walked to his bed and leaned over, placing her palms down on the mattress, her face now level with his.

"I found his clues. I put them together like he wanted me to. He wants you cleared." She lowered her gaze again, the wrinkling in the sheets suddenly very appealing. "…And so do I… Severus, " she allowed, so softly that Snape nearly missed it.

Her use of his given name felt too personal, too intimate, especially coming from a former student. He needed to gain ground. Snape opened his mouth to retaliate and snapped it shut in horror as something sped up his throat from his stomach. He was too weak to repress the nausea any longer, and found himself retching onto the floor beside her.

Hermione acted quickly, never moaning in disgust. She removed the dead flowers from a vase left over from when she had first come to visit Snape, and thrust it under his mouth.

He had not eaten the night before and bile was all that came up, burning his throat and mouth. He dry-heaved several times before he collapsed back onto the pillows, breathing harshly. He barely noticed that she had removed the pitcher from his trembling hands, and cast a cleaning spell on the pitcher and the floor.

The former Death Eater closed his eyes and felt cool fingers brush back his sweat-drenched hair from his face. He heard her soft gasp as their flesh met, and his eyes opened.

"God, you're burning up. Why didn't you tell me you had a fever?" Honest concern spilled from her as she pulled the blankets over him, tucking him into the bed.

He saw the guilt overcome her worried face and to his surprise it warmed him.

Hermione used her wand to transform one of the curtains in the window into a small white cloth. She poured water from a clean pitcher across the room onto the cloth and placed it over his face.

Snape closed his eyes as the cool fabric pressed against his burning skin. He felt like a child again, with his mother taking care of him while he lay too sick to do anything. Merlin, how he missed her.

He felt the same foreign fingers stroke the side of his face. The contact shattered his memories of his mother as he remembered who was touching him. He pulled away, the cloth falling from his face and landing onto his chest with a soft splat.

He wanted to tell the silly girl to leave him the bloody hell alone, but he didn't trust himself to talk without retching again. Gods, how embarrassing. How was he ever to redeem himself? He swallowed, the awful taste of bile all over his tongue.

She leaned over him to replace the cloth on his forehead and he moved away again, sliding to the opposite side of the bed.

Snape expected her to lash out at him, but he did not expect her tears.

"Damn it, Severus Snape. Would you rather fall off the bed then let me help you, you stubborn man?" She drew in a large breath and exhaled. "It's all my fault that you're here. It's all my fault that Ro-" She choked on her words and became angry with herself for breaking down in front of her old professor so soon.

The tears coursed down her pale face, and Snape was reminded of the time when Narcissa Malfoy did the same in front of him. Only Hermione Granger did not latch onto his robes, or plead with him to make a vow that cost a life. She sat heavily in the chair and buried her face in her hands.

Snape realized Hermione Granger was filled with as much guilt, grief and despair as he was. What a pair they made.

Guilt assaulted him once again over the fact he had made her cry, and Snape felt he was losing his touch. It seemed he could no longer sufficiently secure what he felt within the deep reaches of his mind.

He took a deep breath, relived that the nausea seemed to have passed. "Stop your sniveling," he lashed out, desperately trying to gain some ground. Feeling vulnerable did not suit him.

That caught the young woman's attention, and Hermione lifted her head, tears streaming from her brown eyes as she stared into the dark eyes of Severus Snape.

A loud knock at the door broke their connection.

Snape froze, remembering his current state, and grabbed the cloth and shoved it under the blankets of the bed, not caring if it wet the sheets. He sat up straighter and leaned forward so his dark curtain of hair would help hide his face.

The door opened, and Hermione and Snape were both surprised to see Nymphadora Tonks and Harry Potter enter the room.

Hermione had never seen Tonks so serious and business like. Harry looked awful; his hair was unkempt, he looked as if he had not slept in weeks and his clothes were wrinkled. Hatred and revulsion were etched into his youthful face.

"Well, well, well," Snape started with a snarl. "A visit from the Chosen One himself."

Harry's eyes seemed to ignite with flame at the words. He gritted his teeth and balled his fists.

For one fearful moment, Hermione thought Harry would leap at the bed and start beating Severus Snape physically.

Tonks suddenly appeared nervous as her eyes fell upon Snape. The last time she had seen him was the battle against Voldemort when he had fallen atop Hermione Granger, hexed and bloody. "I am here to announce that Severus Snape will stand before the Wizengamot this Friday, the thirteenth."

Hermione opened her mouth and Snape knew exactly what she was going to protest about. Damn his illness. He effectively cut her off. "I will be present."

"You had better believe it, murderer," Harry said angrily.

"Harry," Tonks said as a warning.

Harry ignored her and his eyes locked with Hermione's. He noticed the fresh tears on her face. "Ready to defend him now, Hermione? He's obviously made you cry! Have you finally come to your senses and realized what an arrogant, evil, greasy prick he is?"

Hermione's jaw dropped but she immediately snapped it shut. Her eyebrows lowered over her eyes, which were now filled with anger but also hurt. She knew Harry had been furious the last time they spoke, but she hoped the new knowledge she had shared with him, as well as time, would have softened his views of Severus Snape.

"That's enough, Mr. Potter," Tonks told him.

"Let me speak to you in the hall," Harry demanded of Hermione, ignoring Tonks once again.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "Why would I want to after you come barging in like that, spewing nasty words?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it, Hermione. They aren't any different from anything we ever said in school!"

"I never-" she started, but Harry cut her off.

"I haven't been able to talk to my _friend_ in weeks because she's been too busy being the only member of the 'Snape is Innocent Fan Club.' We need to talk. His trial is Friday and we need to compare notes."

His words caught her off guard. Damn him. She did need to know what Harry planned to say on Friday, even if she only had a rough idea. She wanted to be prepared.

Hermione looked to Snape. That infuriated Harry, who crossed his arms over his chest.

The dark haired wizard lying on the bed said nothing and squinted his black eyes at Hermione as if in challenge.

She nodded slowly to Harry. "Lead the way."

Harry went to the door, opened it and held it for her.

Snape felt the tension in the room rise as the door closed behind the two young adults.

Tonks stood quietly, shifting her weight from leg to leg. She looked everywhere but at him. Snape smirked, happy to have sway over someone. Then he concentrated on listening to what was being said in the hallway.

Hermione noticed as soon as she entered the hall that the Auror who had been standing guard was missing. She didn't have long to contemplate why.

"Why can't you come to your bloody senses, Hermione? Why can't you see him for what he is?" Harry demanded, his green eyes flashing.

"Why can't you let go of your hatred and see what truly happened?" Hermione's voice was softer, but full of forcefulness.

"I saw what happened, Hermione! How many times do I have to tell you I was there! I saw him **kill**…I saw him flee with those other murderers!" Harry shuddered at the thought of it. He had been reliving Albus Dumbledore's death far too many times in the last few months. He still wished it was a nightmare he would soon awaken from.

"Professor Snape sent us a warning while he was with the Death Eaters. He did that at great risk to himself. What if he'd been caught?"

Harry snorted "Merlin's beard, you are starting to sound like him! 'Great risk to himself!' He realized he might be on the wrong side and tried to make good half way through the fight! Why can't you see that!" He grasped her by the shoulders and shook her.

Hermione broke away, gained a few feet of distance and put her hands on her hips. "He saved Draco's life, and he saved yours!"

"Thestral shit!"

Hermione tried to calm herself in the hope that Harry might do the same. He was still grieving for the casualties. They all were, but he handled things differently than she did.

"He saved my life, Harry," she whispered.

"And he let Ron die! The twisted bastard let my best friend die!" Harry backed away and fell against the wall, shaking.

There was silence and Snape strained in the dark to hear something… anything.

Hermione looked away from Harry, tears in her eyes once again. She shook her head. "I'm the one who let Ron die. It was my fault." She stepped toward Harry.

"I should never have shared what I found with him. He shouldn't have been there with me." She placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and when he looked up at her quietly for a moment, she thought that she had finally gotten through to him.

But then Harry pushed her away roughly from him, nearly knocking her to the floor.

"He chose you over Ron!" he cried out, his hands clenching at his messy dark hair. "Why did he choose you? Is he a sick pervert who likes you, or did he realize you could help him more in the end? I seriously doubt he likes you with how he's treated you, and besides, he can't possibly have a heart! So, it must be that he knew you could save his sorry arse in the end! And look at you falling right into his plan!"

Hermione's eyes widened. She had seen Harry upset, but she had never seen him like this. He reminded her of a caged wild cat that had finally escaped captivity. Being held against its will turned it violent and demented, willing to lash out at everything.

She opened her mouth to speak and was cut off.

"What the hell makes you worth more than Ron?" Harry spat, fuming. " The fact that you can quote a few dozen textbooks?"

Tonks gasped within the room. "Merlin…." Her hand covered her mouth.

Snape froze and a feeling of déjà vu swept over him, causing him to shiver. He clenched his teeth. The boy was a carbon copy of his father, James Potter. Snape had expected the taunting and anger that Harry Potter had directed at him. He had not expected the boy to sink so low as to ridicule one of his best friends.

Snape snorted. It served the girl right for wanting to defend someone like him. Perhaps now she would come to her senses.

A loud crack was heard. The door immediately opened and Hermione entered the room. Snape thought she would cry, but she appeared much as he did at times when he was too hurt or angry to react. Her face was devoid of all emotion.

Harry had a hand over his cheek where Hermione Granger had slapped him forcefully. When he let his arm drop there was a perfect red handprint visible on his pale face. "C'mon, Tonks. We're done here. She's made her choice and she's just as much a traitor as he is." He fled the room.

Nymphadora blinked, looking more like a confused, frightened child than the trained Auror in charge. She cast a genuine, sympathetic glance at Hermione, ignored Snape altogether, and left the room, closing the door behind her and Harry.

Hermione turned to Snape, who watched the young witch with a guarded stare. He waited for her to break down or heaven forbid, throw a tantrum, but it never came.

Her normally warm brown eyes were now glazed over with ice and her voice was as cold as a mid-January morning when she spoke.

"I need to know everything."

Snape tilted his head and flicked his dark hair out of his eyes.

"As do I."

To be continued…


	4. Nothing, but a cheeky Gryffindor

I want to thank everyone who took the time to review; last chapter and the chapters before it. I am very grateful and extremely lucky to have so many readers following me from fandom to fandom. I cannot express how honored I am by your devotion. And I want to thank those who have not read my work before for giving it a chance.

Special thanks to my beta, Snarkyroxy.

Chapter four: Nothing, but a cheeky Gryffindor.

Severus Snape and Hermione Granger stared at one other in complete silence, each waiting for the other to make the first move and decide where their conversation would go.

Finally, Hermione began to speak when it was obvious to her that Snape didn't plan to talk. "I don't even know where to begin. There's so much…"

"At the beginning, Miss Granger," Snape told her, his voice lacking its usual sarcasm.

Hermione drew in a large breath and exhaled. As she opened her mouth to ask her question, someone pounded heavily on the door.

Snape frowned. Were they never to have a moment of peace?

The door opened slowly. Hermione and Snape looked up to see the Auror that Hermione disliked along with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"It cannot be any later than seven-thirty in the morning," Snape growled. "What could be so important that I require a second visit today?"

"I'd tread carefully, Snape," Shacklebolt warned. He looked to Hermione, who smiled politely at him. Harry Potter had informed him that the young woman was watching over Snape. She had surprised everyone with her claims of evidence to prove Severus Snape was innocent, along with her desire to sit by his bedside. To Kingsley, she looked weary and years older than she actually was.

"It is early, Auror Shacklebolt, what can we do for you?" she asked softly.

"St Mungo's has requested that Severus Snape be moved," Shacklebolt announced.

"Moved?" The young witch's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "But where? A different level of the hospital?"

"Out of St Mungo's completely," the young Auror spoke up with a smug grin. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking quite pleased with the situation.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Where are we-"

Shacklebolt interrupted before the young woman could finish asking her question. "I'm afraid that is up to Mr. Snape."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about, Shacklebolt?"

"The hospital has requested quite vehemently that you leave the premises. The publicity is less than flattering for them, the staff are afraid of you, and since they feel you are no longer deathly ill-"

"They've only been in here once to check on him! How do they know he isn't deathly ill?" Hermione called out. She was on her feet now, hands on her slender hips.

"He's alive and sitting up, isn't he?" the young Auror asked.

"The mediwizard who checked on him the first day he was here said he didn't think Severus was going to live. He's still ill."

Snape clenched his teeth. Was the girl going to broadcast to the entire world that he was feeling under the weather?

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger. This hospital is firm on this. Where you go is up to you." While surprised that the young woman was already on a first name basis with her former Professor, Shacklebolt didn't comment aloud. He looked at Snape; the greasy, dark- haired man did look paler than usual, but that was far from his concern.

"You will be tracked until your trial just in case you decide you don't want to show." Kingsley raised his wand and muttered a spell at Snape.

Yellow light surrounded Snape's entire body for a moment before it collected to form a bracelet of light around his wrist. The light pulsed in time to Snape's heartbeat.

"If you attempt to remove the tracking spell magically or otherwise, Aurors will Apparate to your location in a matter of moments. It is keyed to your heartbeat and if you remove it without the proper incantation you will die. It is in your best interest not to tamper with it."

"Why are they doing this now? His trial is in a week. He needs to rest," Hermione argued.

"I would have thought that was obvious!" the young Auror cried, throwing his hands up into the air in exasperation. "The hospital doesn't want a murderer under their roof," he spat.

"Innocent until proven guilty," Hermione protested hotly.

"That's for the Wizengamot to decide, Miss Granger," Shacklebolt said coolly, and then he looked to Snape. "You have until eleven this morning to be gone, Mr. Snape. You had better rest and prepare yourself."

Kingsley Shacklebolt and the young Auror left the room without a backward glance.

Hermione let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She collapsed onto the end of Snape's bed, the mattress protesting the additional weight. "We can't leave."

"Apparently I can, and so I will."

Hermione spun around to face him. "How? You're far too weak to Apparate or walk out on your own. They've confiscated your wand, so magic is out of the question. And unless you have a broomstick hiding beneath your robes, which I doubt you do, you have no means of transport." She raked a shaking hand through her messy brown hair. "There's no where to take you except… no, I can't..."

"I do not require your assistance, Miss Granger. I will leave this hospital on my own," Snape replied stubbornly.

"In case your mind has grown foggy, _Professor_," she began in her best imitation of him, "you are too sick and weak, even if you don't want to admit it. You'll splinch if you attempt to Apparate. And if you try to walk of out of here the public will attack you."

Snape gritted his teeth. He wasn't used to taking cheek from Hermione Granger. Her foolish friends, yes, but not her. Were he still a professor, her House would be minus points. "I thought I asked you not to call me that."

"I'll call you _Professor_ until you start letting what I tell you sink into that thick skull of yours!"

"You are quite lucky we are not at Hogwarts, Miss-"

"Oh, that's rich!" Hermione cried out at him, slapping a hand down on her thigh. "You're being kicked out of the hospital and will be standing trial for murder on Friday, and you're thinking about deducting House points from me!" She opened her mouth to continue, but noticed Snape looked exceptionally pale. Guilt assaulted her. She lowered her head in shame at the eruption of her temper. The man was sick and she was fighting with him. She would never have spoken to him like this in school.

"I'm sorry. This isn't the time to argue. I think I might be able to Apparate us both."

Snape felt like something was resting on his chest, crushing him. The sensation had come suddenly, and it angered and worried him at the same time. His breathing was labored and his ears were ringing. How could such a small argument drain him so much?

Her hand startled him as it brushed back his hair from his face. He jerked away from her, ignoring the hurt on her face. Her devotion to him was unnerving, and yet so typically like her. She always had to save those she found in need, just like those damn House Elves! He didn't want her assistance; he didn't want her trust. Only two other people had ever put forth so much trust in him, and both of them were dead because of it.

He tried to tell himself that he did not need her, but his curiosity was piqued. He wanted to know what she had discovered, and selfishly he desired to know how far she would go before she gave up on her new cause.

"Have you ever double- Apparated before, Miss Granger?" he asked, his tone biting. He hated the deep ragged breaths that resonated from his chest, as it ruined the effect he was striving for.

"No, I have never double- Apparated, but before you start, I'm confident I can do it."

"If I remember, you are far too over-confident. Double- Apparitions are not easy."

"I don't want to argue with you. You need medical attention. We can deal with everything else after you've had time to rest and recuperate. You can bite my head off when you're better, if you still feel you need to. Please, just…" her words faltered as she realized how sick he looked. His face was deathly pale, and he was shivering and breathing heavily. His hair looked greasier than she had ever seen it due to the sweat from his fever. He looked pathetic, and she had never seen him like this before. It frightened her.

"Please, let me help you."

Snape was taken back by the honest concern in her voice. He knew he could not keep up this battle with her. He was indeed weak and sick, as his body had just proven to him, and he needed to recuperate if he was going to make it to his trial. He clenched his teeth bitterly and nodded slowly to her.

Hermione got to her feet and walked to stand along the bedside. An awkward tension filled the room and neither of them moved.

"Uh,…Have you ever…?"

He nodded his head slowly as he pulled the bed covers back and began to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

"Oh, good," she allowed nervously.

The older wizard halted for a moment as dizziness caused the room to shift. He waited until it passed before dropping his bare feet to the cold, beige tile floor. He had double- Apparated several times in his life, and he was certain this time would be just as horrible as the other occasions. In fact, he knew it would be a disaster because Hermione Granger had only earned her Apparition license the previous year.

He watched as the black fabric of his hospital robes pooled down his thin legs to nearly touch the floor. One of his eyebrows rose. Black hospital robes? He had only known of white or blue. Had Miss Granger requested black for him because it was the color she normally saw him dressed in?

Slowly, Severus Snape gazed up at the girl who had once been his student, and he reminded himself that she was a woman now. She was very much still the witch he'd once taught, with her blinding desire to help those in need, but at the same time she seemed very different. She was exceptionally quiet, when in the years before, she had been nearly jumping out of her skin to share her knowledge with the world. Only time would help him understand exactly who Hermione Granger had become.

She was biting her lower lip, a habit he had seen from her often as she worked over her cauldron in Potions classes. He realized sadly that he would never again have the opportunity to smirk as he watched her check her notes eight or ten times when she already knew the procedure. He would never again watch her carefully prepare her ingredients with skill that was absent in most of her classmates. Her samples had always been near-perfection. She had earned the Outstanding she received on her OWL.

He sighed heavily. Much had changed.

Snape's legs began to tremble before he had even attempted to stand up. To his surprise, he felt Miss Granger's arm wrap around his waist to assist him. Normally, he would have snarled at her and pushed her away for touching him. He settled for silence instead, and concentrated on trying to remain upright.

"Your muscles aren't used to being put to work; You've been laying down for too long."

Snape's fingers dug into her arm as he tried to rise and he suppressed a smile. She always had the knack of stating the obvious. His knees began shaking. He felt as if he had not walked in years. "I had not realized that, Miss Granger. So good of you to point it out to me," he bit out, as was his habit.

Hermione smiled, much to Snape's chagrin. While his body was weak, his mind was perfectly healthy.

With her help, Snape managed to stand. Her arm was warm around him as was her breath on his neck as it left her lips with each exhale. She smelled faintly of lavender and something else he could not quite discern. Snape shivered and nearly lost his balance. When was the last time a woman had voluntarily held him or touched him? Self-pity descended over him like dense fog.

"This isn't going to work. There is no way you will be able to support my weight. We'll both splinch," he panted.

Sweat had broken out along Hermione's hairline due to her struggle to keep Snape standing. He was tall and despite being thin he was still much heavier than she was.

"Thanks …Mr. Optimistic," she said breathlessly.

Her humor didn't last long as one of Snape's knees gave way. He fell backwards, arms flapping like a demented bird as he attempted to brace his fall. He landed across the bed and she was pulled to land on top of him.

He grunted as her weight rammed into him, forcing the breath from his lungs. He could feel her arm pressed between the mattress and his back. Her face was level with his, her bushy hair tickling him. A sudden warm tingling began further down his body, and he realized that one of her legs was between his and the other was straddling his thigh. Gods, if anyone walked in and saw them like this…

Snape didn't have long to contemplate a scene playing out as he felt the sensation of Apparation and moments later the hospital room was gone.

Something cool pressed against his face, and Snape's eyes shot open to peer into Hermione Granger's worried brown orbs. She took the cloth she was holding and placed it into a bowl on a nearby desk.

He had hoped it had all been a nightmare; Dumbledore, the war, waking up in the hospital with no one but Miss Granger to keep him company.

"Are you okay, Severus? You passed out."

The sound of his name coming from her lips sounded foreign.

Snape glanced around the room without moving his head from the wonderfully soft pillow beneath him. The room was small, painted in earth tones and books lined nearly all the walls. There was a window, a small desk, a bureau and a closet.

"Where…?"

Hermione followed his gaze. "You're in my home."

Snape realized he must be in her bedroom as his eyes fell upon the titles of a few of Hogwarts' required textbooks. The smell in the room reminded him of another place he had known. It was that moldy, musty smell that came from the disuse of living space. Light dust covered everything; the windows were dirty but the bed was very comfortable to his weary body. He spotted a picture face down on a small desk and came to a startling realization.

"Your…parents' home." The words escaped him before he could stop them.

She looked away from him, and Snape grudgingly felt guilt for her loss and gratitude for her kindness. It was obvious that the house had not been lived in for several months, probably due to the pain living here caused her. Yet she had taken him, of all people, to her childhood home to help restore his health.

"I…I am sorry for your loss. I was not there, but I…I heard…" he told her awkwardly.

The young witch nodded, lowering her head to compose herself before she raised her eyes to his. "Now that I know you are all right, I'll let you sleep." She moved away from the bed, drawing one of the dusty shades down to darken the room, before she picked up a few books from one of the shelves.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

She smirked at him. "I won't go far, don't worry."

He pursed his lips. Cheeky little Gryffindor.

"I'll be in the parlor downstairs. I thought I'd try to do some research on what curse might have hit you while I wait for Madam Pomfrey's response. I sent her an owl."

"She won't come here," he told her.

Hermione smiled sadly. She could not miss the hurt in Snape's voice. He had never had many friends, if any true ones at all, but the other professors had once trusted him and confided in him. The fact that none of them did now must have been like a bludger to the chest.

"I know she won't, but I thought she might be able to tell me what I can do to help you. I don't know many healing spells and the ones I do know won't do much good. I'm sure she knows something I don't."

She moved to the door and Snape noticed how tired the young witch looked. She was hunched over, her eyes had dark circles beneath them and she looked pale. The double- Apparation had certainly drained her, as had her weeks of sleeping in a chair by his bed while she waited for him to awaken.

He was amazed she had managed to Apparate without splinching them both. He glanced at himself and wiggled his fingers and toes to make sure everything was where it should be.

"Everything's still there," she informed him with a lazy smile.

He frowned deeply at her. She was observing him far too much and he did not like it.

"At least I think so," she teased. She smiled as she began to close the door behind her, stepping into a hallway.

Snape's eyes and limbs suddenly felt heavy. "Ten points to Gryffindor," the former Potions Professor allowed, so softly it was nearly a whisper. His voice was devoid of any of its usual mockery.

Hermione's eyes widened at his uncharacteristic gift of House points, even if he wasn't truly able to give them anymore.

He watched how her brown eyes filled with hope and then sadness.

Sadness descended over him, too. He didn't realize how much he enjoyed and missed certain things in his life until they were gone. Deducting House points from unsuspecting students had always been among the things he looked forward to when awakening in the morning. He rarely gave points, except to his own House, but if he had ever honestly been able to give a single student points they actually deserved, he would have given many to Hermione Granger.

He felt surprise at such an honest thought coming from himself and then a stab of pain in his chest. He was no longer the Head of Slytherin House. He had not been for months. He was no longer a professor at the school that had been his home for so many years.

For the first time since awakening after the battle, Severus Snape realized he had nothing.

He had nothing but a stubborn young witch who still believed in him after all he had done. He struggled to focus on the woman in the doorway, but he felt very weary and was unable to do so.

The door clicked shut and Snape blinked. Hermione Granger was no longer in his sight.

He could feel his body relaxing, his mind emptying itself of thoughts as it prepared for sleep.

Snape waited until he heard her footsteps disappear before he allowed his eyelids to close and sleep to finally claim him.

to be continued...


	5. Simple Efforts

Thanks are always extended to my wonderful beta, Snarkyroxy!

Chapter 5: Simple Efforts

Snape slept like the dead that night, and when he awakened sometime the next morning, nature was demanding he attempt to find a bathroom…or else!

The dark-haired wizard realized his fever was gone, which was a great improvement, but the rest of his body did not seem to want to recover. He was still exceptionally weak, and even getting up from the bed and moving across the room was a difficult task.

He was covered in sweat by the time he made it to the door some five minutes later, and he needed to use the bathroom so badly it was a miracle he had not used the floor instead.

The door opened just as he was reaching for the handle, and he lost his balance for the billionth time since awakening. He fell heavily onto the hardwood floor, a moan of pain escaping without permission.

"Oh, God! I had no idea you were up!" cried a female voice. Hermione saw the look on Snape's face and mistook it for pain due to the fall. "Gods, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Bathroom." He let out softly.

"What?" she asked.

"I need the bathroom. _Now_." Snape gritted his teeth as the words left his lips. His normally pale skin was flushed with embarrassment as well as his earlier efforts.

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked. She felt her cheeks burn with a blush and realized her former Professor was most likely in pain due to his bladder.

Without a word, the young witch knelt and put an arm around his shoulders, helping the older man regain his balance. Snape was determined to make it to where ever the wretched bathroom was, and made it to his feet much easier than he had at the hospital. Accepting Hermione Granger's help - or anyone else's, for that matter - was terribly out of character for him, but nature was calling rather insistently.

Hermione steadied him down the beige-carpeted hall to the bathroom door as Snape tried to move faster than his legs would carry him. He wobbled like a newborn colt, his knees shaking. Though the door was not very far from where he had slept, it felt like it took years to reach his destination.

"I can manage from here, Miss Granger," Snape told her as he braced his weight against the doorframe. His voice held the tone he reserved for his students. He peered into the bathroom, wincing at the peach colored décor. What was it with Muggles and their brightly-colored bathrooms?

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked worriedly. "The last thing I need is for you to fall into the bathtub and break an arm or leg."

"Quite certain." He smirked. "Unless of course you find the image of your much older former professor using the toilet appealing."

She flushed hotly at his words. She certainly did not want to watch him pull himself out of his pants to pee or pull his trousers down to do something else. She quickly shut the bathroom door behind him, ignoring the grin that appeared on his face at her reaction.

Ugh, he's probably wrinkly, she thought disgusted by the thought of his plumbing. It was bad enough she had walked in on Ron getting dressed once and he was her age.

The thought of Ron made her eyes well up with tears. She gave a great sigh and retreated.

Much later, the bathroom door creaked opened and Snape stumbled out. Hermione, who had been sitting at a desk in one of the rooms toward the end of the hall, rose when she heard the hinges creak. She moved to stand in the hallway.

It was obvious to her by the damp hair around Snape's face that he had freshened up a bit, and she was glad for that. Magical baths were all well and good, but once he was stronger he would need to take a real shower. Still, the fact that he had washed his face and hands was a start.

"Are you well enough to eat something?" she asked.

He started visibly, clearly not expecting her to be waiting for him to leave the bathroom.

"It depends on what is available," he snarled.

Hermione repressed a grin at the tone of his voice. He was obviously feeling much better. "Whatever you want. Cereal, eggs, toast, muffins, porridge."

Snape's hawkish nose wrinkled in disgust at the mention of porridge. "Simple eggs and toast will suffice, Miss Granger."

"Would you like tea as well? And please, it's Hermione."

"I'll take tea as long as there are no extra _supplements_ in it," he bit out pointedly.

Hermione frowned. "What are you-"

His eyebrows lowered, causing a line to appear between his eyes as they narrowed in anger. "Do not think me stupid or naïve, _girl_. I slept the entire night without-" Here he stopped, unwilling to tell her about his horrifying nightmares. "My sleep was undisturbed."

"And what is wrong with that?" She crossed her arms over her chest, a defiant look in her eyes.

The flesh under his right eye twitched. "It is not normal for me, which means you slipped me something last night. I remember not being able to keep my eyes open. You drugged me."

She rolled her eyes. ""Oh, don't be so dramatic. I gave you some aspirin after we Apparated to ease the pain and help you sleep better."

Snape began to speak in the tone he reserved for terrorizing first-years. "You will do no such thing again without my permission. Is that understood?"

The young witch's eyebrows lowered over her eyes. She was not intimidated in the least. "Perfectly. Have your damn nightmares. See if I care."

Snape opened his mouth to protest and she continued on. "I know you have nightmares. You don't need to pretend you don't. I sat by your bed for three weeks and listened and watched as you woke up thrashing and crying out nearly every night. I'm anything but naïve."

"Regardless," Snape snapped harshly. "You will not give me potions or Muggle medications without asking my permission first."

"You made that perfectly clear." She shrugged, suddenly realizing that perhaps she was being a tad bit unfair. The defiance left her like a deflating balloon. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't want people giving me anything without my knowledge, either. I just thought-"

"Therein lies the problem. You think far too much, Miss Granger."

She snorted at him. He was definitely in fine spirits this morning. "I have things to do. If you feel up to it, and think you can manage it without killing yourself, you're welcome to explore the house. But don't even think about the last bedroom on the right. It's off limits." She stormed off into another room and slammed the door behind her.'

The frames on the hallway wall rattled, and Snape grunted. He raised a hand to his forehead, feeling the first stirrings of a headache. How dare the meddling little witch slip him aspirin!

But by the time he had struggled down the hall to bed, he wondered if he had been too harsh. He sat firmly on the mattress, battling with himself about the situation. One side of him was convinced she would use him just like the others had; one part of him thought it was the life debt which caused her to show him concern, and yet another part of him grasped onto the thread of hope that she might actually care.

He sighed heavily, his stomach grumbling for food. The young witch was willing to defend him in a trial in front of the Wizengamot. She was quarreling with Potter, who was one of her best friends, so she could defend her former Professor. One she firmly believed in.

He was halfway to the room she had disappeared into when he realized with a start that he was actually making a move to apologize to someone. He shook his head, his dark hair falling around his pale face. What was the world coming to?

The journey drained his strength, but at the same time he knew that it had been easier than his first trip to the bathroom. Disappointment and relief filled him when he grasped the doorframe of the small room. The door was ajar but Hermione was no longer there. The room appeared to serve as an office. The walls were light cream in color with white curtains hanging over the windows. Black metal frames with white mats and black and white photos of places in London hung on the walls. There was a desk with a computer as well as several papers and parchments.

Curiosity got the better of him and he moved very slowly across the room to the desk. Several papers caught his attention. They were written on Muggle lined paper with ballpoint pen. He immediately recognized Hermione's handwriting, having been her Professor for six years. There were dates as well as particular events that had taken place with Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione. All the events included him. Hermione had written along side each event how Snape had been trying to help Potter.

Snape's ebony eyes scrolled down each date, remembering the time he saved Potter from falling to his death due to a cursed broom. He frowned, remembering how his participation had cost his house the Quidditch match against Gryffindor. He continued to read each and every event that Hermione had written and realized that she was documenting cases in which he had helped the side of Light and the Order.

Her research delighted and frightened him all at once. What would his fate be at the hands of the Wizengamot or the Wizarding public?

His eyes roamed over the desk, finding parchments. They were written in writing he also recognized and he should have known better and walked away. The parchment clearly did not belong on the desk with the rest of the papers, but he could not help himself. When he finished reading, the guilt assaulted him like a heavy downpour that refused to let up until the earth was flooded.

He backed away from the desk and took a few deep breaths. He turned to leave when the very person the parchment was addressed to confronted him.

"What are you doing in here?" Hermione asked. Her eyes were wide with surprise and also suspicion.

Snape cursed under his breath. She was already assuming the worst without giving him a chance to explain.

Hermione appeared angry, but also looked just about ready to cry. "Tell me you didn't start reading my letters. Please tell me you didn't read my personal letters."

Snape opened his mouth to tell her he didn't mean to and realized how pathetic that sounded. He carefully orchestrated his words. "It was not my intention to delve into your personal affairs. I came looking for you."

"And yet you couldn't resist, could you? Can't put the past of being a spy behind you? You just have to delve into other people's business!" she shouted angrily.

"It was not my intention-"

"Yes, I heard that!" she shouted.

In the next moment, all her anger seemed to drain away. She stumbled backwards a few steps until her back hit the wall, and then slid down to the ground as she started to sob.

It was a miracle the girl didn't cry more. Her parents were dead, one of her best friends would no longer speak to her and the other friend had died.

The lithe man sighed. The other friend, who had admitted so openly in his letter to her that he loved her. Gauging by her reaction to Snape finding the letter, she had feelings for the boy as well. A boy, no, young man who lay six feet beneath the earth because his former professor had been unable to save both him and the one he loved.

Snape looked away as she sobbed. He let the guilt assault him because he could; he was free, no longer having to hide what he felt from the Dark Lord. No longer was he a slave, a spy who had to hide his thoughts and emotions to protect himself and those around him. He didn't disturb her, and when she had calmed down, he sat himself on the floor nearby, exhausted as if he had been the one crying.

She gazed cautiously at him, taking in for the first time what she had not seen earlier. He was no longer dressed in his hospital robes. She took in the familiar black waistcoat and all the tiny buttons that lined the front. This time, there was no teaching robe to give him the look of an overgrown bat or to hide the fact that he was incredibly thin. Just the black waist coat, a white linen shirt beneath it and black trousers.

"How did you…?" she asked, gesturing up and down his body.

Snape glanced down at his clothing. "I transfigured them into something more agreeable, though black hospital robes were better than blue or floral print."

Hermione's lips twitched with a slight smile. "Flowers just didn't seem your style," she allowed. "How did you transfigure them without a wand?"

"There is some magic that can be managed without a wand. It takes many years of practice and a trained mind."

She nodded and allowed her head to fall back against the wall. She appeared lost and more like the eleven-year-old girl Snape remembered from her first year than the woman she had become.

They gazed at each other for a short while before she got to her feet and walked over to her desk. He struggled to stand, and turned slowly to face her before he left the room.

"It would never have worked, you know."

"Hmm?" she asked, biting her lower lip. Her warm brown eyes met his cool black ones.

"You and Mr. Weasley. I have nothing against the boy, nor am I glad that I was forced to choose between you and him. But you would have moved on quickly from him."

The woman's eyebrows lowered in anger and she opened her mouth to speak, but Snape was not finished. "You are a highly intelligent witch, Hermione Granger. Long talks about Quidditch and making babies would have bored you eventually."

Snape expected her to lash out for his boldness, but she only smiled sadly and shrugged.

"I guess we'll never know," she allowed softly.

He nodded and turned to leave the room, only to be stopped by her voice yet again.

"What was it you wanted to see me about?"

"Pardon?"

"You said you came looking for me." Her brown eyes were large as she regarded him.

Silence filled the room for several moments before Snape answered, "Never mind." He left the room feeling like a coward.

To be continued…

I want to apologize to all my readers for having to wait so long for the next chapter of my story. Real life has been very hectic for me these last few months and I haven't been in the right frame of mind to do any writing. Hopefully, that is about to change. Thank you as always for your continued reviews.


	6. Unearthing Secrets

I want to apologize for the long delay in the posting of this next chapter. Real life has been keeping me busy and a little stressed, which don't make for good writing conditions. I've been working on this chapter since January and it's taken me until April to finish it. I appreciate those who have taken the time to leave reviews with comments and crits.

As always, a special thank you to my outstanding beta: Snarkyroxy.

Chapter 6: Unearthing Secrets

A soft knock on the bedroom door tore Snape away from the Potions textbook he had been reading for the past few hours. Although it was only a standard fourth-year book, he had needed something to occupy his time and eagerly dove into the familiar pages.

He dog-eared the page and set it beside him on the comforter he was laying on. "Enter," he bid quietly.

The door creaked open just a foot or so and Hermione gave him a weak smile. "I just wanted to let you know I am going to the store for some groceries and a few things. It has been a while since anyone lived here, and other than a few canned goods there is nothing else to eat."

Snape nodded and Hermione began to close the door.

"Do you require money?"

"What doesn't require money?" she joked.

Snape sighed at her jest and shook his head. He forced himself not to snap at her as he would have if they were in his classroom. "No, I meant to ask if you required additional money for supplies and food."

Her eyes widened in surprise as she realized he was offering her money. He couldn't have very much to offer and certainly no money on him. She decided she would feel odd taking anything from him. She shook her head, her bushy hair swirling around her face. "No, I'm all set, thank you. I'll be back in about an hour. Do you need anything?"

He needed many things, but none could be retrieved from a Muggle grocery store. "I require nothing at present."

"Feel free to stretch your legs if you are in the mood, but remember what I said about the bedroom at the end of the hall."

Snape's dark eyebrows drew together. This was the second time she had mentioned the bedroom that was locked and – from what he could tell – warded at the end of the hallway. There was no point in tiptoeing around the situation when he realized he was burning with curiosity. "What is so important about-"

"Just stay out of it," she snapped suddenly.

Snape blinked at her tone.

She slammed the door a bit harder then she meant after sweeping out of the room.

"Curious," Snape murmured, and he returned to reading the book.

It was well over an hour later when he heard the front door open and close downstairs, followed by the sounds of rustling plastic bags and cabinet doors opening and closing. The smell of food drifted toward his room twenty minutes later.

Snape cautiously and very painfully left the bedroom and made his way to the stairs. He realized he felt worse after lying down than he had earlier in the morning. He walked slowly down the carpeted stairs, using the handrail for support as he went. The first few steps were not so difficult. but each step thereafter seemed to drain his strength. The bottom of the stairs suddenly seemed a hundred yards away, when moments before it had appeared to be only ten feet.

Huffing as quietly as he could, he reached the last step. He felt like an old man instead of a wizard just under forty years old as he leaned against the wall to regain his strength.

He gazed up to find Hermione watching him, and he scowled at her. If she even thought to assist him across the room, he'd assault her with the only thing that wasn't aching. His sharp tongue.

Hermione entwined her hands behind her back in an effort to keep from moving to help Snape. It was difficult to refrain from helping someone, as it was her nature, but she could tell Snape wanted nothing to do with her.

"I still haven't heard a word from Madam Pomfrey," she relayed sadly as he stepped closer. " I thought she'd owl by now with some idea of what curse might have hit you."

"You are very naïve, Miss Granger," Snape sighed.

Hermione frowned at him.

"Do you honestly think that Poppy Pomfrey will help me? After what I've done?"

Hermione's lips parted at his tone. She had never heard Severus Snape sound so broken.

"She's a nurse. Nurses help people, regardless of what they have done," the young woman tried to assure him. "Besides, you are innocent."

She had never heard Snape laugh before and the sound was not pleasant. "Innocent? I killed a man, Miss Granger, and not just any man," he spat harshly.

Snape looked away, unable to hold her concerned gaze. Hermione thought he was innocent, and she planned to prove he was by defending him in front of the Wizengamot. Snape knew he had been forced into killing the Headmaster, but he highly doubted the Wizengamot would see it that way. He could have defied the demands of the late Headmaster, and who knows what the end result of the war would have been.

Hermione continued to watch her former professor. If he had killed Headmaster Dumbledore in cold blood as Harry claimed, he would not appear so forlorn as he looked now. He was visibly shaken by what he had done, and he was obviously still dealing with the consequences.

Snape felt weary. His body was aching all over and he could feel the stirrings of a headache. "I will be fine with a few days rest. There is nothing to concern yourself with," he told the young witch.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue that much more than a few days had passed and he was still not well, but Snape lowered his brows and gave her a stern look. The wall he normally showed the world was up again, but she had been fortunate to witness Severus Snape without it protecting him. She sighed and gestured toward the kitchen. "Brunch is ready."

A white china plate full of scrambled eggs with steam rising above them, wheat toast and an annoying mug of tea that said "Brushing morning, noon and night keeps your teeth pearly white" around it, sat on a small oak kitchen table. Across the plate table was a smaller portion of the same for Hermione. She also had a mug with a saying that related to teeth. It was then that Snape remembered her parents had been dentists. Very ironic for a young woman with buck teeth. It must have horrified her parents.

The kitchen was small. Oak cabinets graced one wall, a white refrigerator, a stainless steel sink and the table with four chairs.

Breakfast was quiet other than the clinking of silverware on china plates, the crunching of toast or the sipping of tea. Snape was surprisingly ravenous and ate his meal quickly. He noticed Hermione nibbled on hers and pushed the food around more than she ate it. Shockingly, this concerned him. While Snape had never particularly paid attention to Hermione Granger, he knew from her sitting in his class for six years that she was a fairly thin girl. It was obvious that the war had not been kind – not only to her friendships and family, but her body as well. She had lost weight since the war and he wondered if part of the reason was her strangled relationship with Potter and the loss of Mr. Weasley, whom she'd had affections for.

"Are you not hungry?" Snape found himself asking, forcing himself to banish Potter from his mind.

She gave him a half smile. The kind a person made when they wanted people to think that everything was just fine, when truly it was not. "No, I guess not. Although you certainly were."

Snape glanced down at his empty plate. "It has been a long while since I have had a hot meal." He could not bring himself to compliment her, even though the meal was good.

She smiled, but Snape realized that it did not reach her eyes. The brilliant, young, self-assured know-it-all seemed to be disappearing before his eyes, and that disturbed him. While there was still fire within her, it didn't burn nearly as brightly.

"I'm going to clear the dishes and wash them, and then I think it's a good idea if we exchange information in preparation for Friday," she suggested.

"Very well."

"You can make yourself comfortable in the living room while I finish up in here."

He nodded, wondering if he should ask if she wanted assistance, but decided against it. He was feeling rather weak after their brunch in more ways than one.

He walked into the living room with its beige carpet and white walls covered in more photos of London as well as people he assumed were her relatives. Snape noticed that not a single picture of Hermione graced the walls. He noticed several nails sticking out from walls, though, as well as several frames laid face down on the mantle of a fireplace.

Confident that Hermione was occupied with the task of clearing the dishes, he painfully made his way to the fireplace. He glanced at the kitchen door before he picked up one of the frames from the mantle. There was no glass in it and some of the photo as well as the wood was damaged. He concluded that Hermione must have been upset and either dropped or thrown the frame.

The photo had a strange effect on him. His heartbeat quickened and it was difficult to breathe. He ran several of his callused fingers over the smooth paper, tracing the outline of Hermione Granger's face. She was laughing about something. He did not know what, since the picture did not move, but she was happy and a bit heavier in weight then she was now. A man and a woman stood behind her. The woman had hair was the same color as Hermione's, and she was laughing as well. She had her hand on Hermione's shoulder. The man had dark hair and was grinning at the two women in front of him.

Snape looked into photo-Hermione's eyes and clumsily put the frame back on the mantle. It teetered but thankfully did not fall, and he stepped away.

He made to sit on the couch, but found it was made up like a bed with a sheet, comforter and pillow. Surely, she didn't plan on sleeping down here when there was a spare bedroom at the end of the hall upstairs?

Snape went to sit himself in an armchair across from the couch. He lost his balance and tumbled gracelessly onto the furniture. He felt exhausted, when hours before he was beginning to feel his strength return. His heart was still beating rapidly. The memory of that photo was etched into his mind. It had been Hermione's eyes that had caused him to break away. The woman sharing her parents' house with him was not the same person as the one in the photo. He could not shake the feeling that was partially his fault.

Hermione entered the living room nearly ten minutes later. She sat herself on the couch, oblivious to what had taken place in her absence. "Where would you like to begin? Should I get my notes?"

Snape shook his head. "You outlined events we both know about. I need to know what happened at Hogwarts in my absence.

"I could get some back issues of the _Prophet _for you to flip through to find that out."

Snape shook his head again.

The wizard sighed and then looked up directly into her eyes. "I believe it would be better if I could see the events from your point of view. I would prefer a Pensieve for this, if you have one available…" His voice took on a quiet tone.

"I don't. Most of my magical things are…" She paused, looking forlorn. She was still unable to say the name of Ron's home aloud. "They aren't here. And I don't have a Pensieve yet. I was afraid of leaving something like that around for the wrong person to discover."

Snape could not deny that she was an intelligent young woman. Of course, thinking it and admitting it aloud were two separate things.

"Then…we might want to try another means of communication," he suggested softly.

Hermione hesitated, her eyes flashing wildly and settling on everything in the room but him. She knew exactly which form of communication he was referring to.

"I understand how difficult it would be."

"No, you don't," she said, jumping slightly when she realized she had said her thoughts out loud.

"If you agree to this, I promise you I will not search for anything you are not willing to show me." It was his turn to glance away. "You trusted me with the information I passed to you last year. I ask you to trust me again."

"That's much different than letting you rummage around in my head, through my memories!" she shouted.

He spoke quietly. "I will not push you, Miss Granger. If you chose not to do this, you can relay the information to me verbally, which is quite acceptable." He refused to push her, seeing how much this seemed to disturb her.

"And waste a lot of time when you could see it all in only a few minutes." She stared at him, glancing him over as if to see if he was safe to trust. Their eyes met and Hermione realized he was being sincere. After a few moments of battling inner turmoil, she nodded to him.

"What must I do? I…I haven't…" She stumbled over her words, afraid of saying too much or too little.

"Clear your mind of everything but that which you are willing to allow me to see. Focus on those thoughts so they are at the front of your mind."

Hermione nodded and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, taking several minutes to block her other thoughts.

Snape was certain she could follow his instructions. She had been the first student to perform a non-verbal spell in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He was confident she could clear her mind.

"This is much more difficult than I thought it would be," she said softly.

He could tell she was attempting to keep her voice steady and she was failing. Was she truly that afraid? And was it because of the unknown, or was it because of him?

"I will not push you. If you are unable-"

"No, I can do this. I'm ready," she replied adamantly

"We need to be closer together. You are too far away."

"Where do you want me? I know we need to have eye contact."

"Indeed. Stand in front of me."

She did as he instructed, stepping before where he sat on the chair. She kept her eyes diverted toward the carpeting. This whole thing felt strangely intimate, though certainly not in a sexual way.

"Miss Granger?"

She looked into his eyes, noticing how dark they really were. They were blacker than a winter night sky devoid of the moon.

He noticed she was shaking, and it bothered him that she might be afraid of him. He parted his lips to ask her again if was ready, but decided against it. He placed his palms on her shoulder. Very slowly the shaking subsided beneath them.

_"Legilimens."_

'Otherworldly' was the only thing Hermione could describe it as. She could sense Snape in her mind, a dark shadow that normally was not present. This was much different than the first time someone had read her thoughts. This wasn't a violent invasion. It was calm, gentle, almost soothing… things she would not normally associate with Severus Snape.

She showed him everything she could think of that might help. The reactions of the staff and the Order after the murder of Dumbledore, the clues she had found; her investigations, her desire to know that her former Potions Professor was not bad as everyone thought him to be. She also relived many of the frightening moments of the final battle.

Strangely, she could still hear and feel everything going on outside her mind. She heard Snape's sharp intake at the reactions of the staff, and felt him squeeze her shoulder at the slightest mention of Dumbledore. She did not feel, but could sense Snape's emotions as he viewed each memory. Overwhelming hurt and guilt were flooding him.

Snape prepared to draw back when she sent him a memory strong and clear. He sensed it was something she wanted him to see and yet was fighting to hide. This memory was hazy, as if it had been buried in a corner of her mind, dirtied and dusty from not being viewed very often.

Hermione, Harry and Ron were walking down the hallways that led toward the dungeons. Other students milled around individually or in groups.

Ron and Harry were talking about Quidditch, something they rarely did these days since the teams were not playing this year. The school was not even supposed to open after the death of the Headmaster the previous year, but things had changed at the last moment and school resumed. Not nearly as many students returned.

Hermione gave a sigh. "I used to enjoy Potions. Now I dread it nearly as much as I dreaded Divination. It was a challenge when Professor Snape taught it; now it's a waste of time." She paused, startled to realize something. "I actually miss his classes." She said this quietly and mostly to herself, but Harry spun around as if she had shouted it.

"What did you just say?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. She knew this was a sore subject for Harry, but it was how she felt.

Ron drew away. He could sense an argument before it happened these days. "She's been practically sleeping in the library again, Harry. I think the smell of books has fried her brain."

Hermione frowned at him and Ron shrugged. He was only trying to be helpful.

"I could have sworn I heard you say you miss _his_ classes." Harry's dark eyebrows lowered beneath his round glasses.

Hermione brushed her wild hair back behind her shoulders. "I _did_ say that, and don't get your wand in a knot. Neither of you can deny that we learned more from Professor Snape than other Potions or Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers."

Harry flinched at the name as if he'd been struck with a powerful hex. He balled his hands into fists. "I don't ever want to hear that murderer's name said aloud. He'd better watch himself, because if I ever find him-"

"You'll what, Harry? Hit him with a few Unforgiveables so you can wind up in Azkaban? For goodness sake, we don't even know the whole story." Flustered, Hermione started to walk away, seeing the fire burning in Harry's green eyes. She knew what happened when that fire burned. Harry became irrational and sometimes even dangerous.

Despite everything that had happened within the last seven months, Hermione was having a hard time believing Dumbledore would trust Professor Snape so completely, given his past, if something more was not happening. The former Headmaster had allowed Severus Snape to teach for years. Also, he had entrusted Professor Snape with valuable Order information.

Harry grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. "This isn't the first time you've brought _him_ up."

Ron sighed and kicked at an imaginary pebble on the castle floor.

"What more do you want me to say, Harry? You already know that I think there is more to it than meets the eye." She was not going to back down this time.

"So you've said, countless times. Is that why you've been in the library lately? Trying to find more information on Snape or his family? Hunting for clues to what I already know?"

"I've been in the library, preparing for my NEWTS as you two should have been."

"Why do you always look at where he used to sit at the High Table, Hermione? Do you miss that murderer himself, not only his classes? DO YOU?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Harry, lower your voice." She glanced around, noticing that many students had stopped to see what was happening. "We should get going. We're going to be late for Potions."

"It's just a waste of time now that the murderer isn't teaching it," he spat at her.

"I think that's enough, mate," Ron said putting a hand on Harry's shoulder in an effort to calm him down.

"Shove off, Ron!"

Hermione was furious by now, but she wasn't about to cause anymore of a scene than they already were. She moved to walk away, but Harry spun her around. He glanced deep into her eyes and whispered, "_Legilimens."_

Hermione's eyes widened at the unexpected invasion. It felt like someone was tearing at the flesh of her brain, trying to unearth her secrets. She attempted to pull away, but Harry was determined and he didn't relent until he found what he was looking for. He backed away, eyes wide, gasping.

Hermione's head hurt terribly. She felt as if someone had beaten her from the inside out.

"Why do you have so many memories of _him_ teaching? Of _his_ visits to Sirius' house? Damn it, Hermione, you think he might be innocent! Did you forget that he _killed_ Dumbledore!"

Nearly everyone in the hall had stopped to see what was going on by now. Harry's voice was carrying a great distance. There were students who had returned to school who Hermione wasn't sure she trusted. She didn't need the entire school to know she thought more was going on with Severus Snape than the murder of the Headmaster.

What was worse, though, was Harry's actions. She felt tears, but bitterly pushed them away, refusing to cry. Harry had invaded her mind and it had hurt her far more than she thought possible. She trusted him, had always trusted him, but looking at him now, Hermione could scarcely recognize him. His fingers were digging into her arm, preventing her from escaping.

"Harry, let go. You're hurting me." Her voice came out much steadier than she thought it would.

He held tighter, causing her to wince. "And you don't think you're hurting me?"

"How could I possible be hur-"

"You still respect the man who killed the greatest wizard that ever lived! You think something more happened than what I saw! Do you know how twisted that is, Hermione? He killed Dumbledore in cold blood before my eyes, he killed Sirius-"

"He didn't kill Sirius-"

"He did! He killed him, just like he killed my parents! He's just as bad as Voldemort! He's nothing but a murdering snake and I will see him die by my hands before this war is over!" Harry released her roughly, shoving her back until she hit the wall. Her books, quills and parchments went flying. He stomped away like an angry child.

Hermione looked to Ron, who sighed. He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze before he jogged after Harry.

Hermione glanced around to see the students were still looking at her, and now they were whispering amongst themselves. "Go about your business. The show is over," she bit out.

She scrambled to gather her books, realizing that not one student came forth to help her. She ignored Harry in Potions class as well as for the rest of the day. She cried herself to sleep that night.

Snape felt bewildered as he withdrew from Hermione's mind. She was breathing heavily before him, wavering unsteadily on her feet, shaking and she appeared very pale. Somehow, their hands had met and their fingers were entwined. Hermione did not seem to notice, but Snape did instantly, and yet he did not pull away.

Anger coursed red hot through him. Who the hell did that boy think he was? Potter had ripped into the mind of one of his best friends. And how he had learned to do that? Where did he learn Legilimency?

Snape had tried to warn Dumbledore about the boy and his words had fallen on deaf ears. How would Albus have reacted if he were alive to know what Harry had done? Would he have turned a blind eye or reprimanded him?

Hermione did her best to compose herself. She knew the memory had resurfaced because Snape had entered her mind. He had seen it now, even though she had not wanted him to. It would only give him a reason to hate Harry even more. She should hate Harry for all he had done, but she couldn't find it in herself to do so.

"Perhaps that is enough for tonight," Snape said quietly.

Hermione nodded and felt warmth surrounding her hands. She glanced down to notice that her fingers were entwined with Snape's. She would have expected his hands to be cold, but they were far from it. She could feel the roughness of his skin from years spent preparing both ingredients and potions. On impulse, she moved her thumb to stroke his.

Snape untangled his hands immediately, the touch far too unnerving.

Hermione stepped back so he could stand.

She realized he was shaking badly. He was much paler than usual as well.

"I should…rest."

"Why don't you sleep on the couch? You can rest during the day and spend the night here, if you'd like. I can sleep on the chair or something."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Severus Snape. You've been cursed with Merlin only knows what…"

"Tell me something I don't know, Granger!" he roared.

She drew back, suddenly feeling like a timid second year.

Snape sat down roughly in the chair again, and covered his face with one hand. He felt dizzy from the outburst. He heard Hermione step away, but his voice halted her.

"I am…sorry, Miss Granger. You did not deserve that."

Their eyes met again and she could see that he was once again being sincere. How would she have reacted, being in bed for weeks and awakening to find someone she didn't like watching over her and eyeing her every move?

"It's okay. I nag and say the obvious sometimes."

"Sometimes? Don't you mean all the time?" Snape's lips twitched into a tiny smile.

Hermione's eyes widened. Severus Snape had just joked with her. She returned his smile. Then she stepped toward him and knelt by the chair. "Would you like your feet up?"

"That would be acceptable."

She pulled the wooden handle on one side of the chair and raised the footstool. Then she reached for the blanket on the couch and draped it over him.

He grunted and attempted to push it away, but she refused to back off.

"It's chilly down here; you'll need this for later. I'll be upstairs if you need anything. And I prefer Hermione over Miss Granger, if you don't mind. You make me feel as if I'm still in school."

He grunted at her again for the way she was treating him, and was rewarded with a genuine smile that lit up her face.

He sighed as she disappeared easily up the horrible stairs.

Several moments later, his eyelids began to feel heavy. Against his will, he drifted off to sleep with the image of a bushy-haired young woman smiling at him.


End file.
